


Another Dance

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, Gap Filler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-16
Updated: 2006-03-16
Packaged: 2018-12-26 20:05:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12066030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Brian and Justin reach an understanding. Set between Stockwell and Kinnetic. Angsty and schmoopy and raw.





	Another Dance

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

  
Author's notes: Based on "Something Stupid" covered by a ton of different people. Not mine, don't own it, just used it for my own evil purposes. :)   


* * *

"I know I stand in line  
Until you think you have the time  
To spend an evening with me  
And if we go someplace to dance  
I know that there's a chance  
You won't be leaving with me"

Brian walked in the door to find Justin shaking his ass and moving his feet to the rhythm of some beat. His Ipod moved up and down in his right hand as he thrust his body, wove around the living room. Brian smirked; at least he wasn’t wearing his clothes this time. No this time he was in old paint clothes, hell, even his shaggy blonde hair was splattered and streaked. One spot on the back of his head was sticking slightly up and to the left in a big gob of orange. Brian laughed outright at that, barking a short, sharp burst at the ridiculous way Justin liked to dance when he thought he was alone. His body shook in a way that Brian could only assume meant the cover of a song that only a self-respecting twink would dance to. 

Justin was completely oblivious to Brian’s presence, listening to the music, loosing himself in it. If he thought about the words he’d had on repeat for the last hour—hell, who was he kidding, he’d heard it on the dance station earlier and downloaded it instantly because—well because it caused a flurry of painting, and it felt like his life before. Not exactly before, but then and sometimes maybe in the future too. It kept him grounded actually, something to expect, something he knew, and if he could dance to it maybe it wouldn’t shock him and hurt him when it all came up again. 

"Then afterwards we drop into a quiet little place  
And have a drink or two  
And then I go and spoil it all  
By saying something stupid  
Like I love you"

Brian snuck up on Justin, cock lengthening and straining in his pants at the sight of Justin so lost in the music. He hadn’t seen his face yet but he was sure it held the entranced look he got only when dancing, painting or fucking. Oh yeah, Brian knew Justin well. Just as he was about to pounce, Justin pivoted, whirling around to face Brian, eyes still squeezed shut. Instead of a look of rapture though, his brows were furrowed and his bottom lip was seemed permanently stuck between his teeth. It stopped Brian short, it made no sense, too many confused signals, happy dancing, moving with a rhythm, yet lost in thought and—fucking hell. It was the look he got on his face long ago, when he would tell Brian that he loved him. Brian was sure that if he opened his eyes that look of fear and need would glow out from them. Well shit.

"I can see it in your eyes  
That you despise the same old lines  
You heard the night before  
And though it's just a line to you  
For me it's true  
And never seemed so right before"

Justin opened his eyes at the exact moment that Brian closed his in frustration. He jumped backwards and yelped just a bit, shocked to see his lover so close to him, undetected. He yanked the headphones off and threw himself at Brian, winding himself around him, holding on to him, and letting his body talk for him. He could hear the song echoing in his head, knew he was exposed. Brian could read him like a book, this had to be screaming. So instead of forcing Brian to shut down, to run, to drown in booze and men and drugs, his hands caressed “I love you” and his hips demanded, “I want you” and his mouth was insistent as he tried to block out the fear he still, ridiculously, felt. 

Brian was surprised too. Justin went from zero to 220 in one second flat. He was pushing against him, hard, fast, needy, and he wouldn’t pull away, wouldn’t let Brian look at him—and Brian couldn’t take the time to analyze why that bothered him. But Justin had become someone who Brian didn’t want to go away and that meant that when he sensed something wrong with his world, their world, he had to look Justin in the eye--well before he made the educated decision that it was bullshit and went to the baths anyway.

Justin felt Brian start to pull away and sighed, resigned to Brian’s resistance. As he leaned back he kept his eyes carefully closed, something was too raw and vulnerable right now to face Brian—he didn’t want him to see. 

"I practice every day to find some clever lines to say  
To make the meaning come through  
But then I think I'll wait until the evening gets late  
And I'm alone with you"

Brian looked over Justin’s face, seeing the withdrawal. His brows furrowed again. 

“Justin.”  
“Hmmm.”  
“Justin, look at me.”  
“Kiss me. Now Brian, I want you, now.”

Brian’s heart sped up the way it always did when he heard things like that. Warmth and want and wanted—which was terrifying but almost better than just want. 

But no, “open your eyes twat,” and then he did and it just about knocked the wind out of Brian. It was like looking into the eyes of a scared 17 year old, shining under a street lamp. Something had put Justin back there and Brian…it was too much on a Thursday night. 

Justin watched the emotions play over Brian’s face, reacting, withdrawing and seeking all at the same time. Things were shaky anyway, Justin didn’t need Brian to close down now, now when it was good and close and why the fuck was he doubting now?

And then he just needed Brian to understand, needed him to know and acknowledge. Not feel or say or even look at him cross eyed for fuck’s sake, but just know, because Justin was there and even if the living room was completely and totally empty and devoid of everything else Brian loved, he was still there and sometimes it reassured Justin just to tell Brian what he already knew. 

So, “Stay,” he said firmly, pushing Brian away and plugging in the tiny stereo that he brought from Daphne’s. Soon a slow techno beat came over the speaker and he walked up to Brian. Brian got lost in the gentle rhythm as Justin yet again fell into him, pushing chest to chest and thigh between thigh, moving and softly grinding up and into each other. Then the words started to break into Brian’s consciousness. So this was it, Justin—fuck, again and how the hell is he supposed to respond to this? 

"I know I stand in line  
Until you think you have the time  
To spend an evening with me  
And if we go someplace to dance  
I know that there's a chance  
You won't be leaving with me"

And after everything. The fiddler-fuck and Stockwell and loving him, fucking LOVING him in an unconventional and undefined way, yeah, absolutely--he had to stay sane but so be it. He still didn’t know. He still wasn’t as “on” to him as he always claimed to be. Brian sighed long and low and Justin’s heart clenched. It was a dangerous way to speak but it was all he had right now and he needed Brian to know. 

Didn’t Justin know? Couldn’t he see that somehow the tables had turned and Brian was scared too, scared since that fucking wooden bat, scared that the mask somehow wouldn’t hide what he needed so desperately to keep in the dark. Couldn’t he see how entwined he was with this man, this life, god, this fucking need could eat them both alive and they’d never truly be able to fight it. So why bother now? He wrapped himself around Justin, moving with him, running the tips of his fingers against the fringe laying against his neck, mindless of the paint, the smell of oil and turpentine, canvas and sweat that he would always associate with home. 

He breathed in Justin as Justin exhaled into his neck, finally letting go, finally moving with him with no struggle. He pulled his head back and the blue eyes that always made Brian just a little bit afraid shone. He knew, he understood and as he brushed Brian’s hair out of his eyes and leaned his forehead against his lover’s he sighed. 

“You know, right?” It was dangerous. It was stupid, but it just tumbled past his lips. 

He stiffened momentarily and then met the gaze head on. “Yeah,” it was no more than a whisper, but it was enough.

"The time is right  
Your scent fills my head  
The stars get red  
And oh the night's so blue  
And then I go and spoil it all  
By saying something stupid  
Like I love you  
I love you..."


End file.
